


Little Things

by awrites (awritesrated)



Series: He Is Not Uncaring! [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Caring John Watson, Friendship, Insecure Sherlock Holmes, Loyalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awritesrated/pseuds/awrites
Summary: Little things Sherlock does that demonstrates perfectly how much he cares for John.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: He Is Not Uncaring! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709272
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	1. Making Tea

### Chapter 1 – Making Tea

Everyone has been telling John how Sherlock was a psychopath. “ _Psychopaths get bored.”_ They would say. John thought they just didn’t want to understand. The first time he met Sherlock, he got the impression that this was a very private, but intelligent man. Yet, the first thing he did when they walk into the flat they were about to share, was to anxiously try straightening the room up when John mistakenly referred to his things as rubbish. No, Sherlock is not a psychopath, not even a sociopath. He was just socially awkward, and craved human contact as much as he, or anyone else, did.

If he were in any doubt of Sherlock’s affections, this was one of the moments they were completely dispelled. Freshly brewed tea, right at his elbow, magically appeared just as he was sitting down. He looked up, and sure as day, Sherlock was behind his large microscope, looking into one of his many interesting substances. There was always something though, something that told you of Sherlock’s unease. The slight furrow at his brows, and the fiddling of his fingers, as well as the almost too straight back Sherlock was sitting with. Almost as if he was focusing on something else rather than the experiment he had in front of him. Almost as if he was monitoring John’s reaction acutely. Well…John was no deduction expert, but he could read people pretty well. Sherlock was nervous of his reaction, and feared his rejection.

John picked the cup up gently, took a sip and moaned lightly, “Mmmm, best thing in the morning is tea. Thanks Sherlock.” It was casual gratitude, not too much attention on what Sherlock did for him, but an acknowledgement, and a hidden compliment. Sherlock was smart, he would deduce his joy at this particular offering of a budding friendship. That would have to be good enough. Sherlock’s whole body seemed to sag with relief. Once again, John was struck by how much he must mean to the consulting detective, to have him so strung up over tea.

From that morning after, Sherlock managed to make tea for him almost every morning. Just the morning though, because he wouldn’t want to overdo it and make the doctor uncomfortable. The doctor approved of tea at that particular time of day, so that was what he was going to stick to. John always muttered a thank you when he drank the tea, so he must still like it, so Sherlock continued to provide it. It was tea, but it was also friendship, and companionship, and just…something he liked to do for John.

If the morning tea wasn’t enough, next came the apology tea. John was never a perfect man. He gets angry and short-tempered as easily as any other bloke. Yet, Sherlock seemed overly anxious of making John terribly mad at him. The first time Sherlock forgot about him and ran out of a crime scene, John returned home to see freshly brewed tea on the table. Sherlock’s almost too enthusiastic antics at demanding John do weird things to catch the culprit non-withstanding, the fact was, no matter how careless Sherlock was with John’s well-being, or feelings, he did care, in his own way. His intellect made it difficult for him to focus on things he deemed unimportant, and John _was_ unimportant, because he never had been there until a couple weeks ago. Sherlock was still adjusting to his presence, and the changes he had made to accommodate him can only testify to his desire to keep John happy with him. How could John be anything but? Sure, he gets annoyed from time to time, but he did like Sherlock overall. Sherlock was just a dork, and John wasn’t the most patient man, but they _fit_. 

So the almost tentative approach to apologise just wrenches at John’s heart. How inexperienced must Sherlock be at forming relationships, that even John could see how the master of hiding emotions was emoting stress. Stress from worrying over John’s reactions apparently. As they were discussing their next step, John made sure to only huff in part annoyance, part amusement, and drank the offered tea contentedly.

From then on, every time John made his displeasure known, whether justified or not, tea almost always appeared in front of him by the end of the day. Sometimes he would come home, and Sherlock would be nowhere in sight, and tea would be waiting for him, still warm and perfect. He would sit down, and relax, and enjoy that tea, and pretend not to notice the shadow hiding on the left, a fidgeting bundle of nerves that calmed when he started to sip the tea, and disappeared as John finished it.

Far be it for John to fail to reciprocate in this matter. He observed Sherlock opposite him, slightly squirming in discomfort as John compliments another of his deduction, and John abruptly stood up, startling the poor genius. He starting putting the kettle on boil, and preparing the tea leaves, feeling Sherlock’s puzzled eyes on him. When he was finished, he came back with two cups of tea, and pushed on towards Sherlock.

Sherlock stared at the cup, and then back up at him.

“What’s this?” For a genius, he could be slow.

“Tea.” John replied semi-sarcastically.

“I know. I mean…why did you make it? You like it when I make it.” He said it like it was his duty to make tea, like it was an obligation.

“Well, yes, I like it when you make it. But that doesn’t mean I cannot make some for you from time to time.” John patiently explained his actions.

“Does this mean…that you don’t want me to do it anymore? Or…or did I do it wrong? You don’t like something I did? That’s why you want to make the tea yourself. You don’t want to drink my tea anymore, is that it?” His obvious inept in everything social just made this all the more heartbreaking for John.

“No, Sherlock. I like your tea. I like that you make me tea. It makes me happy to know you make them for me. That’s why I want to make tea for you too. So you can experience the same joy I have when you do it for me.” There, that should explain his actions pretty well. Sherlock absorbed the information quickly, then straightened himself up. He looked John in the eyes, and then back at the cup in front of him. He had the air of a very pleased little boy for getting his first birthday gift.

“For me?” He confirmed. John nodded in response. The joy that sparkled in Sherlock’s eyes as he picked the cup up was enough for John to decide, yes, he would make tea for Sherlock as often as he could too. Well, not the morning ones. Sherlock made those best.


	2. Comfort Food

### Chapter 2 – Comfort Food

“Sherlock, what’s this?” John stared at the multiple boxes of takeaway in the fridge.

“Hmm?” Sherlock hummed in question. John rummaged through the many boxes and realised all his favourite cuisines were in there. Chinese, Italian, Vietnamese. Multiple boxes from the same cuisine. Lots from Angelo’s.

“Why’s there so much food?” John tried again, and this time Sherlock looked up from his thinking position.

“You wanted them.” John furrowed his brows in confusion. He didn’t ask for food, certainly not this much. Well…he _was_ starving, but he didn’t need fourteen people’s servings.

“I did?” John asked. Sherlock’s lips thinned and he slightly pouted before jumping up and slipping into his room without another word. Bewildered, John took one of the boxes out, and reheated it before digging in.

Mmmmm, that was good. Angelo’s pasta never disappointed. As he relished the meal with gusto, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock standing inconspicuously at a corner, obviously thinking he couldn’t be seen. John was extremely puzzled how Sherlock never realised John could actually see him, but he thought it could be because Sherlock’s actually quite nervous at these times. Sherlock returned to his room when he was satisfied John was enjoying himself.

John pondered what Sherlock meant by he wanted the food. Although, he was surprised Sherlock remembered all his favourite food. Wait…favourite food…why would Sherlock take the care to order all his favourites? He only did that when he thought John needed…oh. John did a double take at the food he was eating, and reminded himself of his recent break up. Lovely Tiffany was a good woman, but to be honest…she was just a fake. She used too much perfume, and too much powder on her face. John was actually pretty glad to be rid of her. Sherlock didn’t know though, because Sherlock must have gotten the news of his break up and made a deduction based on past patterns and data: John would be in a bad mood this evening.

John’s lips twitched at the thought. It was amazing how Sherlock deduces everything at one glance, but it was also quite amazing how he gets it wrong with John. Was it because of their close relationship?

John quickly finished his meal, brewed some tea, turned the telly on and settled down to relax. As anticipated, like a curious animal, Sherlock emerged from his room after hiding in there for a few hours. He sat down on his chair, then glanced at the extra cup of tea on the small table. It was an obvious thing to deduce, of course it was for him. Operation comfort food was a success then? Sherlock quietly observed John’s mood, and was happy to find his friend quite upbeat. They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the night, and retired early, both reassured of each other’s affections. Well, they were set for the rest of the week. No need to worry about food. John wasn’t too shocked when the fridge was free of disgusting body parts throughout the week.

Two months later, John found another stack of his favourites in the fridge. He tried to recall the past week, and couldn’t think of anything sad that had happened. He rounded the table and walked out of the kitchen, and tried to pry the answer to his question out of him using his eyes. Why was Sherlock trying to comfort him?

Sherlock obviously noticed his scrutiny, smart as he was. His focus on the telly decreased drastically and only an anxiously squirming overly sweet guy was left on the chair. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he huffed in annoyance.

“It’s winter, John.” Hmmm, not a direct explanation, very vague. But it was obvious to Sherlock. What about winter? John racked his brain and recalled every memory he shared with Sherlock where winter was mentioned.

_“I hate winter, Sherlock.” John had started, “It’s cold, and dry, and uncomfortable. Also, Afghanistan was never a nice country when you were in the army, but having to deal with winter on top of all of that, it’d just ruin the whole experience for me. Winter will never be a nice period for me ever again.” Sherlock hummed in response, but otherwise said nothing._

Oh. Source of sadness and discomfort found, thus the need for comfort was also found. John’s heart swelled with affection for his considerate best friend. He mightn’t have remembered John’s girlfriends’ names, but when it was the important things, Sherlock listened and committed them to memory. John didn’t need any more proof of Sherlock’s care for him.

John turned back to the kitchen, reheated two of those packed meals, and set them on a tray. He brought them out with him and handed one over to Sherlock. The genius refused to accept the offer though.

“They’re for you!” He didn’t quite snap, expression turning more mulish by the minute. John knew Sherlock though, and the depth of his insecurities. Sherlock thought John didn’t want to have the food and was looking for ways to get rid of them faster. Why else would he offer _his_ comfort food to someone else.

“Having a friend eat with me makes me feel better too. Especially when said friend refuses to eat for days on end and makes me worry about his health.” John said evenly to the pouting genius. Sherlock snapped his eyes up to John in surprise, and whatever he saw in John’s face, he was apparently satisfied. He accepted the tray, and giving John several furtive glances, he too started to dig in.

Later that night, Sherlock asked right in the middle of a movie.

“We’re friends?”

“Yes, of course. Why else would I follow you around into dangerous situations?”

“Because…you liked the danger.”

John sighed exasperatedly.

“I do…but I only like it when I am with someone I like and trust. That means I can only have fun with a friend, Sherlock.”

“Oh.”

The rest of the night was fairly quiet.


	3. Extensive Research

###  Chapter 3 – Extensive Research

If someone said anything bad about his best friend, John would be the first to disagree. Sherlock was many things, but a bad man? Definitely not. It was at this moment, though, that John felt all his defence of his best friend was all reciprocated. Not that he needed it to be, but when he offered friendship, he would like to be offered the same as well. The tea was a pretty good tell of Sherlock’s willingness to accommodate him, and the food told John that Sherlock cared. But _this_ was irrevocable evidence that Sherlock wanted to be his friend.

Right there on Sherlock’s personal laptop screen, haphazardly left open as he rushed out for a case, was a whole list of random points. It took a while, but John eventually came to the only conclusion available. The first few were pretty general:

  1. Foundation. Conscious effort to tell the truth. No omission. Helps with relying on each other. Builds trust.
  2. Build comradery. Support system. Makes him happy. Convey willingness to be in his presence.
  3. Keep his secrets. Privacy. Boundaries. He hates me deducing him in public. Reduce.



But the more John read, the more he realised this was a list of resolutions Sherlock wanted to follow. It went on and on, including loyalty, listening, encouraging, and when John finally got it, it was all he could do but sink into the chair.

It was a list of rules to maintain a friendship. John thought for a moment that he might have misinterpreted the situation, this might not be for him at all, but the point “he hates winter. Make winter more comfortable.” just threw his doubts right out the window. He scrolled the list right down to the bottom, and the last number was 256. Wow…that’s even more than the types of tobacco ashes. It was a comprehensive and frankly daunting list. Was Sherlock planning to follow through on all of those?

John could only sit and stare blankly into space, not unlike Sherlock when he was in his mind palace. Such extensive…research…to learn how to be a good friend? He read through the whole list of course, and when he looked around the laptop, he found some pieces of paper, notes, uncharacteristically messily written notes.

> ~~No lying.~~ Be honest. Contradicts with no deducing. Reduce amount of information conveyed. Keeping secrets contradicts with looking out for John’s welfare. Spending time with John contradicts with keeping John romantically happy. Confused.

Sherlock’s apparent difficulty with manoeuvring human emotions seemed so obvious now when John was looking at his scribbled notes and the struggles Sherlock experienced evident in the various cancellations and terms used. Contradicts…confused…Sherlock was trying his absolute best, but perhaps…his too scientific approach to data collecting was too practical…and he was having trouble seeing things emotionally. What John saw, though, was how despite all his struggles, he remembered Sherlock asking if he wanted to watch movies with him. He remembered Sherlock reducing the amount of time he barged into his room. He remembered how Sherlock seemed to wait for him while chasing after criminals recently. Little changes, yet profound when you see things in context. Sherlock was following these rules, these…256 impossible rules that contradict him and had to be driving him insane.

Footsteps sounded at the door before it opened, and Sherlock walked in briskly, shaking off some dust as he hung his coat up. He turned towards John…and paused. Multiple deductions raced through his mind, but the most prominent of all, is how John now knew of his pathetic attempts at friendship. He stared at John a little longer, before making his legs move, promptly dropping himself in his designated chair.

“So…did you break any of these rules?” John cursed himself for his total inability to keep his mouth shut. How could he, after finding out the immense trouble Sherlock went to maintain their friendship, ask such a stupid question? It was insensitive, and uncalled for, and apparently had struck a nerve. For Sherlock’s shoulders were now hunched higher than before, and Sherlock seemed to be sinking into his chair deliberately.

“I…I didn’t mean to!” Sherlock near panicked voice shook John out of his reverie. W…what?

“W…what?” John was speechless. First he found out Sherlock’s diligence in being a good friend, now he realised Sherlock was feeling really bad about breaking some of these ridiculous rules.

“I…I mean…I deduced you this morning…but I did stop when I realised I was doing it! And I lied about being home just now, as you well know by now, seeing as you’re home, but I was merely out for a smoke and I didn’t think you would be back so soon! I…I forgot to get your milk, but to be fair, you didn’t tell me to get them this time. I swear I was going to get some! And…and…I’m sorry! I’ll do better!” Sherlock’s voice has gotten softer and softer, and this was not the Sherlock John was used to seeing.

Sherlock was confident, indifferent (well in some cases), could easily hide his feelings and did not cower in front of him ever! John did notice how Sherlock was slowly opening up to him, but to be this vulnerable…it was a trust he never wanted to break.

“No!” John almost screamed, and Sherlock winced and lowered his eyes. No no no no! Sherlock’s misinterpreting John’s exclamation and John could not let that slide.

“N…No! I mean, there’s no need! You don’t have to follow all these rules to be my friend Sherlock.” John tried to explain through the lump in his throat. Sherlock raised his head just enough to peer through his lashes.

“I…don’t have to?” Sherlock asked in such a tentative voice, that John just had to wonder what had happened to him in his past that he would be this uncertain of a friend who killed a man for him the day they met.

“I…I know emotions are difficult, but…we’ve been friends for a while now. Is there anything that we do, that makes you happy?” John will make this man understand the nuances of friendship, if it was the last thing he did. Sherlock only looked at him through his soulful eyes, before he answered, “When we were on cases together, or watching the telly together.”

“Right. And you care about me, correct?” John’s casual confirmation of Sherlock’s feelings seemed to throw him off a bit, but Sherlock nodded promptly.

“I care about you.” Sherlock repeated as if it was an epiphany, a discovery that had just been solved. “I _care_ about you!” And again.

“I I I I mean…when you have that slightly droopy face, I feel this emptiness in my heart that threatens to eat me whole. And when you get all excited and thrilled over something, I feel like I was on drugs…but milder, with less side effects.” John beamed at Sherlock after hearing all of that. A validation! A confirmation of Sherlock’s regard for him. He had a lot of evidence that told him that, but unlike Sherlock who could be satisfied with facts and deductions…ordinary John feels truly blessed when the confession came from Sherlock’s mouth itself.

“Right…then we don’t have to follow all these rules. How about we…just focus on keeping each other happy, and make sure we do nothing to cause distress?” John tried to alleviate Sherlock’s obvious stress over all this, but…

“Yes…that was what I was trying to do with the rules!” Well, Sherlock was nothing if not stubborn, he shot straight up and scowled at John in indignation. He knew what he needed to do, there wasn’t any need for John to confuse him further!

“Well…alright then…I think you might get it in the long run anyway. I have to warn you though…this is more of a…feeling what the right thing to do is thing, instead of a follow the pattern of past collected data thing.” John sighed in defeat.

“Duly noted.”


	4. Respecting Boundaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry everyone! I know you have been waiting really really long for the next chapter. And here it is!! I've read all the comments you guys have been leaving, and I gotta say...I AM STILL ALIVE hahahahaha! But I have become a tad busier than before and time management has become an unattainable dream. I have also opened my new online shop (since I'm mentioning it...links are in the notes below...I might add these links in my other stories too hahahaha) and I have been busy with the prep work and other stuff I needed to do for the shop. 
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter! And rest assured I will DEFINITELY finish all my stories!
> 
> Love,  
> Antoinette

### Chapter 4 – Respecting Boundaries

John has experienced multiple instances where Sherlock’s affections are shown, proved, even outright blown in his face sometimes. The tea and food and the efforts the genius put in weren’t subtle in the least. But _this_ , this was very, very subtle. It was quiet and soft and gradual he just didn’t notice it until nearly two years have passed.

Sherlock has no concept of personal space at all, that he knew, but today, he suddenly realised how much respect Sherlock had for his desires and…well…privacy.

“Sherlock, go get some of those notes I took for the case for me please? I need them for the blog.” John asked, and he knew it was a long shot, but Sherlock surprises even him sometimes and it was worth a shot. The expected silence wasn’t unusual. The unexpected question after almost ten minutes of silence was definitely out of the ordinary.

“I thought…why do you keep _testing me_?” Now _that_ startled the former army doctor.

“Huh?” John cursed his inadequacy when responding to Sherlock’s eccentricities. It was impossible to keep up with him sometimes, but this time didn’t seem like one of those I’m-not-a-genius-that’s-why-I-don’t-understand-him moments. Sherlock scowled at his ineloquent one-syllabled reply.

“You keep telling me to go to your room to get something, but you get angry when I actually go! I won’t go in there! So just _stop testing me_!”

John could only stare at him in shock. _Had_ he been requesting Sherlock go into his room for something or other more recently? If he had, that could only mean he was starting to trust Sherlock with his privacy…or rather, starting to get used to Sherlock’s tendencies to barge right in without asking. John would have understood by now that Sherlock’s actions had no bearing on his respect for John, but his rather lacking skills of social interaction. Also, it wasn’t like Sherlock didn’t allow John into his room anytime he wanted. Frankly, the amount of leeway John gets away with was alarming in itself.

At the start, John would ask for permission to drop something in Sherlock’s room, or to get something from his room. Yet, after the first few times, Sherlock simply told him that he could just walk in anytime he wanted, without tediously asking for permission every single time. “It’s tiring and a waste of time and energy.” The genius had told him. So John started going into the tall genius’s room whenever he needed. Even when Sherlock was in the room, even when Sherlock was obviously preoccupied, _even_ when Sherlock was fresh out of a shower. John merely paused at the doorway for any sign of annoyance or rejection, but it never came, and he went into the room without a word.

Sherlock seemed to be learning and respecting _John’s_ privacy though. He asked for permission – if he remembered – before stepping into the room, and he knocked before entering if John was inside. Although he didn’t wait for an affirmative answer before stepping across the threshold. But it was already such improvement from the random visits when John had just moved in.

John didn’t remember any moment where he was angry with Sherlock for going into his room, but apparently, he had been.

“When did I get angry?” He asked as casually as he could, not wanting to set off any defensive mechanism the skittish genius had. Sherlock blinked at his question before rearranging his scowl.

“The week before last! You told me to retrieve your file on the victim’s autopsy and when I came back, you shouted at me! And just two days ago, you requested I get your nail clipper to cut a wire of some sort, and you screamed bloody murder at me! I’m not doing it again!”

John thought long and hard, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, trying to remember the incidents Sherlock was referring to. He sighed in exasperation.

“Sherlock…you grabbed my underwear from my drawer for some experiment when you got the autopsy for me, remember? You also proceeded to cut every wire after I’ve fixed the lamp, and our lamp refused to work properly again. Surely you remember that too!”

The genius – if he could still be called that after all these hilarious social awkwardness – stared at John blankly, before identifying the difference in John’s and his own thought processes.

“So when you told me to get something from your room, you didn’t mean to allow me access to everything in your room, but only what you told me to get?”

John raised his eyebrow at that. Did Sherlock think he was allowed to take his belongings every time he was allowed into his room?

“And the cutting of wires?”

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly, “I thought you were making patterns. I was helping you finish it.”

“I…” John was at a loss for words, “I…I didn’t realise.”

Sherlock nodded as if responding to John’s words, and did an abrupt about turn, walking into John’s room without a second glance. John saw him turn his head from left to right, searching for the case notes with his eyes, before striding right up to the side table and lifting it. He walked back out and handed the file to John.

From then on, Sherlock has ceased all random and unsanctioned visits to John’s room, and whenever given the go ahead to enter the room, he kept his hands to himself.

John’s personal space, however, he barged right in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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